New Year, New You
by aliciameade
Summary: Just a whole lotta smut that takes place on New Year's Eve. HAPPY NEW YEAR!


It's hot in the club. And loud. Her feet are killing her. And she's just buzzed enough to not care about all those things.

"This is amazing!" she yells into the ear of her dance partner.

"I'm so glad you decided to come!" Chloe wraps an arm around her waist and yanks her closer, which Beca thought couldn't be possible with how they were dancing. And yet. "You deserve to blow off some steam!"

Beca just smiles because it's almost impossible to converse over the music blasting.

It's New Year's Eve and Chloe had begged and pleaded with her, quite literally on her knees, to come to this party, some VIP thing that required being on a list at the door. She still doesn't know how Chloe got on the list, and part of her doesn't want to know, because it probably has to do with flirting with some guy and frankly, she's not a fan of that.

What she _is_ a fan of is the way Chloe's hips are working against her own and how Chloe's breath feels against her ear and how it's hot enough on the dance floor that what would otherwise be a telltale sign that she's completely and totally turned on - her cheeks being flushed bright pink - can be attributed to the heat and exertion of dancing and not the fact that she is wet enough to feel it every time she shifts her feet.

Which is often, given the fact that they're dancing.

Because Chloe Beale has been all over her all night, and generally speaking, it's not that much different than other nights. But this mood settled into place the moment Chloe dropped to her knees in front of her and grabbed her hips, and then hands, and looked up at her and said, "Please, Bec?"

Because Beca's imagination took that scenario in a decidedly different continuation - one that had Chloe's hands tugging at the button of her jeans and asking permission to pull them down so she could slide her tongue between her legs, Beca's fingers tangled in her hair.

Instead, Beca had grit her teeth and let her hand rest on Chloe's head for half a second to indulge in the fantasy before pushing her away with a grumble and roll of her eyes as she not-so-begrudgingly agreed to go.

Now they're on the dance floor with Beca's buzzed, dirty imagination running scenarios through her mind that include everything from fucking Chloe in the middle of the dance floor to being pulled into the bathroom and lifted onto a sink to dragging her fellow Bella into a cab where they grope one another until they stumble through their front door and tumble onto the first soft, flat surface they find.

She shivers at the thought and she's just drunk enough to let her arms drape over Chloe's shoulders and lean in a bit; they're so close that they aren't even face to face, but cheek to cheek. She's still thinking about what it sounded like to hear Chloe say she was excited for Beca to come despite the different context and she's not really thinking about what she's doing until her arms aren't just draped over Chloe's shoulders but are looped around her neck.

Chloe's hair tickles her cheek and Beca uses it as an easy excuse to thread her fingers through it and pull it back. She misjudges distance, though, and keeps pulling longer than she needs to and she feels the jerk of resistance followed by Chloe's voice in her ear. It's quiet, or seems quiet, compared to the volume around them, but it sounds a lot like happy surprise.

It sounds a lot like Chloe really enjoyed Beca pulling her hair.

Even if that isn't what it was - maybe it was just surprise, not happy surprise - it makes Beca press herself closer to Chloe, fingers grasping just a bit tighter, hips rolling into Chloe's with enough force to make her own sound of happy surprise.

She has a fleeting thought that what she's doing is wrong and inappropriate. She's sexualizing her best friend and not in the privacy of her bedroom behind closed doors and in the secrecy of her mind. She's doing it right now, when her arms are wrapped around her and her fingers are in her hair and their hips are rocking in sync and Chloe's hands are on her waist and...and one of them drifts down over the curve of Beca's ass.

It's brief, as though it was unintentional, but it's enough to make her reach to do the same, only she stops short and presses her hand to the small of Chloe's back. Her shirt, already barely reaching the waist of her skirt, has ridden up with her dancing and Beca's hand is on her bare skin. It's warm and slick with sweat and feels exactly like Beca imagined it to feel when she would grab Chloe, writhing in desperation against her, tongues in each other's mouths, hot and sweaty with passion.

She lets her fingers curl, lets her nails scratch at Chloe whose own fingers pull at her waist. Chloe's breath is hot against her ear and it's quick with the exertion of dancing and it lets Beca imagine what it would sound like if Chloe was breathing hard, on the verge of a climax that Beca was driving her to. She blows out a breath, trying to get a handle on her libido but Chloe's hand drifts down again and this time it stays there, right over the square back pocket of Beca's jeans.

And squeezes.

Her controlled breath ends with what probably qualifies as a squeak and she's embarrassed for a second before she realizes what's happening.

Chloe's hand is on her ass. And it isn't leaving.

She can feel Chloe's head moving, what seems to be a slow rolling side to side, away until the tension from Beca's hold in her hair pulls her back in, as though testing Beca's grip or how far she can move it until there's tension. Her breath comes and goes with the distance until it's cut off abruptly and something warm and soft and wet grazes Beca's ear.

Lips.

Beca shivers, confident it's another accident, but the hand on her ass squeezes again when the lips return, and she twists her neck a little to lean into the contact that doesn't disappear. Whatever is happening, she doesn't want it to stop, doesn't want to wake up from this dream.

The song changes, Beca can't put a name to it, but the pace slows and Chloe shifts. Beca thinks she's about to break away and end the dance but instead she only adjusts her stance and Beca gasps.

Chloe's thigh moves between her own and it presses up with every slow beat of the song.

She can't help it; she moans in Chloe's ear and drops her head to rest it against Chloe's shoulder. She's dying to roll her hips, grind them against Chloe. Her entire body is thrumming with arousal and she busies herself with detangling her fingers from Chloe's hair...and sliding them back in from a better angle.

"Bec…"

It's whispered in her ear a moment before the hand on her ass squeezes hard and pulls her deliberately over the length of Chloe's thigh.

Beca's knees weaken but Chloe's leg is there to stop her from collapsing to the floor, and it only makes it worse, much of her body weight pushing her right into Chloe's thigh. Or rather, it makes it a thousand times better. She tightens her hold around Chloe and shivers, completely overheated. Chloe's shoulder is warm against her, the thin strip of fabric of her sleeveless top allowing for ample skin to be exposed and it's crazy and Beca doesn't know why she's doing it, but she tilts her head just right to bite her shoulder.

All she knows is that she needs her mouth on Chloe, wherever she can put it.

Chloe's hand turns into claws on her ass and jerks Beca forward again and she has to fight to stop the sudden orgasm that rushes her. She manages to block it but it leaves her gasping for oxygen anyway.

Someone bumps into them and it's not gentle and Chloe grabs her protectively and Beca's reminded that they are in the middle of a crowded dance floor and not alone. She jerks back but Chloe's hold is firm and she only succeeds in lifting her head.

Chloe's flushed, lips parted. Her chest is heaving and her eyes keep skipping back and forth between Beca's eyes and mouth. Her thigh is still firmly wedged between Beca's legs, and Beca knows that by this point, she's soaked through her jeans and there's no way Chloe can't feel it against her bare thigh, which is probably getting a rug burn from the incessant friction of Beca's jeans. She's almost worried, but Chloe looks her squarely in the eye as she presses her thigh closer and drops her protective arm down so both hands are on Beca's ass and pulls.

Beca doesn't know what her own face looks like, but she imagines it's something between shock, madness, and bliss because she's on a dance floor riding Chloe's thigh. The fact that Chloe's staring at her while Beca grinds against her is enough to chip away at the resolve she'd mustered to block her climax seconds ago.

She runs her hands along Chloe's arms and back to her shoulders to support herself as she gives a particularly long roll of her hips. It makes her jaw drop and Chloe bites her lip and helps Beca through the motion with her hands. Beca holds her stare as long as she can, and then she's sliding forward to press their bodies close like before their interruption, her head turned to rest her cheek on Chloe's shoulder.

The curve of her neck is irresistible and she doesn't think. Just presses her lips to it. Sucks. She feels a hand slide up the back of her neck and into her hair and she hears her name at her ear again. Chloe's voice is unsteady and sexy, and Beca licks. Tastes. Chloe tastes amazing, how she always thought Chloe would taste, but better.

They're not even moving to the music anymore. Beca's hips have set their own rhythm, one that's becoming increasingly frantic. She's nearing the point of no return and isn't sure she'll be able to stop it in its tracks again.

She runs her tongue up Chloe's neck so she can hear Beca's desperate warning, a broken, "Chlo," that she whines in her ear. "I - I'm…"

She feels Chloe nod and press her thigh impossibly harder against Beca and Beca can sense it, the tendrils of pleasure weaving their way along her back and arms and legs, through her chest and down into her stomach. On instinct, her mouth is on Chloe's neck again, teeth and tongue and lips and her fingers are tangled in Chloe's hair and Chloe keeps whispering, "It's okay," and meeting each of Beca's desperate thrusts with one of her own until Beca can't stop it. Can't find the end of the rope to grab and hold on to to stop herself from slipping over the edge and she tenses in Chloe's embrace until her hips jerk wildly and she's coming against her best friend who guided her right to the peak and is moaning in her ear and running her hands up and down Beca's back as though she fears not touching enough of her body.

"Shit," Beca whispers. Her brain is trying to panic but her body can't move; she feels like she weighs a thousand pounds and she's pretty sure she's fused herself to Chloe's thigh and she clings to the redhead for support. She just got off on her friend in a crowded club and it's the Chloe part she feels guilty about, not that they could get thrown out or even arrested for indecency.

It's Chloe who retracts first, reclaiming her leg to stand up straight for the first time since their dirty dancing started. Beca looks up, prompted into motion by the loss of heat. Chloe looks delirious and for a moment, Beca knows she's smiling like a dope.

Then everything rushes back through her memory like a freight train and she finally has the wherewithal to turn and bolt but it's as though Chloe senses it, is prepared for it, is sitting on a hair trigger because the moment Beca flinches to move Chloe's hands are on hers to prevent her from leaving.

"Don't."

Beca doesn't hear it over the music but she could make out the word on her lips, lips that she has yet to kiss despite not only leaving a hickey on the girl's neck but grinding herself to an orgasm on her.

Delirious. Beca realizes why Chloe looks that way and that's a different kind of freight train that pitches her forward, almost into Chloe's arms and she can tell Chloe was expecting a kiss but instead Beca just pushes forward, through Chloe, hand in hand, to weave across the dance floor. She's unsure where she's leading them - to an exit? To a bathroom? To an alley?

They end up at the bathroom but there are at least twenty girls in line. Beca feels desperate but knows it's nothing compared to whatever Chloe is probably feeling. The girl has molded herself to Beca's body from behind, hands wandering without subtlety. She's still unsure what's happening, or how this even began, but she's somehow living in her fantasy.

She turns to lead them toward the exit for the 'dragging her fellow Bella into a cab' portion of her fantasy but she slows, remembering it's New Year's Eve and the clock has yet to strike midnight. Her phone is in her pocket but she can't be bothered to retrieve it, though the fact that waitresses are passing out glasses of champagne tell her it's close.

She is close.

So close to getting her hands on Chloe.

She's almost to the point of deciding to just press her against the first surface she can find and reach under her skirt, but she wants better than that for Chloe. She wants to remove each piece of clothing with the reverence that is deserved of revealing Chloe's body. She wants Chloe to be comfortable in a bed, the only tension or discomfort coming from extreme pleasure and not that of a hard wall or precarious position. She wants to taste every inch of Chloe, a few inches particularly so, and she can't do that against a wall in a club, even if Chloe's skirt would allow for it with minimal effort.

The thought makes her shiver, or maybe it's Chloe's hands that are almost to her breasts that do it, but regardless she keeps them moving toward the exit. Either the countdown will happen before they escape or it won't and either way, she knows Chloe is going to be screaming. Her lips curl into a devilish smile and she feels far more buzzed now than she did an hour ago despite not having consumed a single beverage in that time, and she knows it's Chloe that she's drunk on. She feels dirty. Naughty. She wants to do unspeakable things to the girl who's glued to her back, rocking her hips side to side against Beca's ass because they're in a human traffic jam with no choice but to wait and die a slow, maddening death of impatience.

Somehow, plastic flutes of champagne appear in their hands and Beca hears the DJ announce there's one minute left of the year and every ten seconds marked sounds like a countdown to something bigger than a new year.

Chloe's hand tugs at her elbow long enough that Beca finally turns around to face her. She looks less delirious, now more excited and bubbly and for the next thirty seconds, Beca forgets about the suffocating sexual arousal as she and Chloe burst out laughing until they're counting down the final ten seconds of the year.

They both yell, "Happy New Year!" along with the other hundreds of people around them, and "Auld Lang Syne" starts blasting and Chloe's grinning at her with those sparkling blue eyes, and Beca's not quite prepared for it, despite having waited so long, when Chloe grabs her by the collar and yanks her forward to kiss her.

It's not brief.

It's instantly hot and deep and Beca spills most of her champagne on Chloe and the floor because Chloe's tongue is flicking over her own and Beca hears herself groan.

Chloe pulls away a few seconds later, grin back in place as she wipes the edge of her lip with her thumb before clicking her glass against Beca's and finishing her champagne in one long drink.

Beca's frozen for a second before following suit.

And then she's spinning because Chloe's taken her hand is leading her through the crowd, pushing her way through with all the grace and poise that Beca lacks until they're suddenly standing on the sidewalk outside the club, hand-in-hand and side-by-side.

Beca looks over at Chloe who looks back at her, still grinning. Beca doesn't know what they're doing outside or where they're going, but she just smiles back and then Chloe's leaning in and kissing her again, this time slower and far more steamy and needy.

"Home," Chloe says when they part.

Beca's ears feel like they're filled with cotton; Chloe's voice is muffled and everything sounds hyper-quiet after escaping the blasting music.

She realizes that Chloe isn't asking if Beca would like to go home - she's telling Beca that's where they're going. Beca is about to comment on it, with what, she's not even sure, but Chloe's already stepping to the curb to hail one of the many cabs waiting nearby. It pulls up and it's she who is being dragged into the cab and nearly into Chloe's lap.

She hears Chloe give their address to the driver and then Chloe's turning to face her and Beca takes a breath in anticipation of whatever conversation she doesn't want to have is going to happen but instead Chloe kisses her. And kisses her. And _kisses_ her.

Chloe's hands are everywhere, and they're amazing but distracting and Beca's already turned on again and losing the focus to get her own hands where she wants them.

She does succeed in getting her hand on Chloe's knee which leads to her thigh and Beca's hand is under Chloe's skirt, high enough to make her heart race and Chloe sigh into her mouth, though not touching more than the warm, impossibly smooth skin of her inner thigh. She can't _wait_ to reach higher, but she _wants_ to wait and do it properly.

She wonders for a second if their male driver is getting off on this, two girls all over each other in his back seat. But then Chloe's hand presses right between her legs, without hesitation and without apology, and Beca forgets about everything else in the world but Chloe.

Chloe breaks their kiss and moves to Beca's ear, giving it a tug with her teeth and then tracing the edge with her tongue before she whispers, "You're so wet."

Beca feels her stomach fall through her feet and all she can do is nod dumbly as Chloe scrapes her nails over the soaked denim. "Fuck," she finally manages to say as her legs fall open without thought.

Her grip on Chloe's leg might be leaving bruises, but Chloe doesn't seem to care as she dips her head to kiss Beca's neck, a sloppy yet somehow precise assault of tongue and lips that has Beca breaking out in goosebumps and grinding - _again_ \- against Chloe. And of _course_ Chloe is skilled at this; Beca would expect nothing less. Heat floods her when the thought of Chloe's skill being applied to lower regions of her body.

She's on the edge embarrassingly fast and that's when she finds the strength to reach down with her free hand and grab Chloe's wrist to push it away from her.

"Wait," she says, breathing hard, when Chloe looks at her in concern. "I just...I want... _you_."

She says it with a long exhale and she hears Chloe moan and reach for Beca's hand and Beca almost fails to register in time what is happening because Chloe's guiding her higher and she stops just in time.

She has to take a steadying breath before she can speak. "Not like this."

"'Kay!" Chloe's voice is chipper and not at all like the sultry vixen who'd whispered in her ear seconds earlier and it helps Beca snap out of her lust-induced trance.

"Jesus," she says with a gasp like she's come up from air after a deep sea dive.

Chloe giggles and its innocence shouldn't do to Beca what it does, and it's like Chloe reads her mind because suddenly she's in her lap - _Chloe Beale is straddling her lap in the back of a taxi._

Her next exclamation is cut off by Chloe combing her fingers through Beca's hair to pull until Beca's head hits the back of the seat and she's forced to stare up at Chloe who is staring back with all the excitement of a cat who caught the canary.

Which is funny, Beca thinks, given the fact that she is pretty sure _she's_ the one who caught the canary.

With a surge forward Chloe's mouth is on hers again and her tongue is so deep that for a second Beca can't breathe, and it's not in a gross, excessive way. It's a hot, nasty way and she feels Chloe's hands press into the seat on either side of her and grinds herself down on Beca's lap with a groan.

Beca echoes it and her resolve to wait is cracking, hands flying to grab Chloe's knees. They're sliding north without thought and her left middle finger encounters wetness long before she's reached her destination and she exhales hard against Chloe's incessant assault on her mouth. It's shocking and enthralling and beyond arousing and reassuring that Chloe is as wet as she is.

She pulls her fingers through the wet streak again and Chloe just nods like she knows what Beca is thinking, but then Chloe's moving away before she's reached her destination.

"We're here," Chloe says with a wicked grin before twisting her way off Beca's lap to swipe her credit card through the machine to pay the fare.

"Have a lovely evening, ladies!" the driver says as Beca somewhat blindly slides out of the cab, and she can't stop herself from turning back to say something smart.

Only to get beaten to it by Chloe ducking her head around the door with a quick, "Oh, we will!" before grabbing Beca's hand to scamper up the path to the Bellas' house, keys already in hand to unlock the door with ease.

Beca fully expects to get slammed against the door, and is a little disappointed when instead Chloe heads for the stairs.

Then she remembers that their bedrooms are upstairs and she doesn't give a fuck about the front door anymore.

At the doorway to Chloe's room, Chloe turns and pulls Beca right into her and back into a smiling kiss as she kicks the door closed and keeps shuffling backward until they're tumbling onto the first soft, flat surface they can find, Chloe squealing with laughter as she falls blindly.

Beca's laughing, too, as she fixes her clumsy position over Chloe to straddle her waist and sit back to push her hair out of her face. She feels warm fingers creeping under her shirt, tickling her stomach and tugging playfully at the waist of her jeans and she looks down.

Choe's smiling up at her, a little softer this time, maybe a little thoughtful and Beca feels the mood in the room shift. She returns the smile.

"Happy New Year," Chloe says, her hands traveling higher until they're tracing the edge of the cups of Beca's bra.

All Beca can do is smile and then Chloe's urging her shirt up and off and she's straddling Chloe in her jeans and bra and then her bra is gone and Chloe's hands are on her breasts, and Beca nearly forgets, again, the whole reason she hasn't already given Chloe what Chloe gave her in the club.

So she lets herself indulge in it for a few more seconds, looking down to watch the way Chloe's fingers trace the curves of her breasts and then she's reaching for Chloe, making quick, nervous work of the buttons on her blouse. She leans down and captures Chloe's lips, trying her best to make it clear that this is her turn, that she is the one in control, and the way Chloe melts into the bed beneath her only makes her more confident.

So she does what Chloe had done in the back of the taxi: copied that hot, nasty, tongue-filled kiss and she feels Chloe's entire body roll beneath her followed by a throaty moan. She finally ends it when she can't breathe and they're both gasping as she moves on to Chloe's neck, giving it more thorough attention than she had on the dance floor. She sees the bruise she left there and she descends on it again.

She knows Chloe has no idea it existed already, but the way she keens when Beca pulls at the skin tells her she knows it'll be there now. Big. Dark. Possessive. She doesn't seem to care. And Beca _wants_ people to see it. To know she left it. She releases it with a pop and has to lick her lips before continuing south over Chloe's collarbone, tracing her right bra strap until she's leaving another mark on the swell of her breast.

Chloe's hands are in her hair and her back is starting to arch and Beca needs the piece of black lingerie gone, despite its sexiness. She works her hands behind Chloe's back to wrench the pair of hooks apart and then it's gone and she's face to face with Chloe's bare breasts for the first time since the fateful day in the shower.

Only this time, she doesn't have to try not to stare. She stares for a solid minute until Chloe's grip in her hair forces her to stop by pulling her down, demanding Beca's mouth on her skin.

It's Beca who groans despite it being Chloe's nipple being bathed by a tongue. But Chloe isn't quiet, and her sound of satisfaction comes as a high-pitched exhale. Her flesh is firm in Beca's mouth and Beca has to reach for the other one, needing to feel it in her palm and between her fingers.

When she finally removes her mouth, Chloe falls back to the bed as though Beca had been holding her up like a magnet. And when Beca moves to the right to taste the other, it happens again, Chloe somehow pressing herself closer as her tongue slides over and over, fingers playing with the other, left wet and straining for more.

Chloe's hands disappear and she looks up in curiosity and sees them tangled in her own red hair, a look of pained desperation on her face. It's with a burst of activity that Beca pushes herself backward to fumble with the hook and zipper on the side of Chloe's skirt. She'd had every intention of licking every part of Chloe's body, but she could do that later.

Right now she just needs to lick one thing, and the way Chloe helps push and shove her skirt down until Beca throws it aside told her it's all Chloe needs, too. She gets rid of her jeans in the process and decides to ditch her underwear with them.

With the skirt gone, all that's left is the black lace that matches the bra she already removed and she can't help but lay down between Chloe's legs, a semi-controlled collapse that has her face to face with what she'd felt in the taxi: slick wetness streaking across Chloe's thighs. The thong serves absolutely no purpose now, other than to tease Beca, and though she could rip it off or pull it down, she leaves it on for now and instead drops her head to trace a smudge of wetness with her tongue.

It's her first _taste_ and her hips grind into the mattress on instinct. She hears Chloe whimper above her and she looks up to see Chloe's eyes on her, a pained look of excitement on her face.

A whispered, "Fuck," makes it past Chloe's lips and that's the last straw.

Beca reaches for the thong and yanks it down, having to twist out of the way while Chloe helps wrestle it off and it doesn't even make it off both legs before hands are in Beca's hair and heels are on her back, and hips are rocking expectantly, setting a pace before Beca's even touched her.

Beca just looks for another few seconds because there will never be this again, this first time of discovery, witnessing the effect she's having on her friend, her friend whom she has been fantasizing about for so long, who is now writhing in front of her, wordlessly begging for her mouth.

So she gives Chloe what they both want and leans in.

She doesn't graze. Or tease. She just presses her tongue flat against Chloe and drags it north through the sea of arousal that has gathered there and they both moan.

Chloe is louder.

But Beca is a close second. She laps at her; she has to, Chloe's a mess and it's the sexiest fucking thing Beca has ever experienced and then they're rocking together, Chloe's grip on her hair pulling her in again and again and Beca's supposed to be in control here, but she doesn't give a shit anymore as she licks at and sucks on Chloe, her own hips grinding into the bed for relief.

It's all so much that she forgets for a few minutes that she has hands. When she finally remembers, she drags them up Chloe's legs and over her toned stomach, then down again until she can slip them under her thighs to hold her hips and keep Chloe's writhing from letting her get too far away.

She hears Chloe swearing; she's heard her swear more tonight than her entire life, and it's sexy and flattering and exciting and Chloe's pace is faltering, frantic thrusts that stop abruptly followed by another curse, followed by frantic wildness, again and again, until Beca's pulled in so close that she can't breathe and Chloe's thighs are pressed against her ears so those gorgeous sounds are muffled, but she doesn't care because she can hear and feel Chloe falling apart around her and it's with a cry that she comes.

She doesn't move; if she were to die right here, she would consider it having died in heaven.

She feels Chloe relaxing limb by limb, knees falling open abruptly to bathe Beca's heated face with the crisp, cool air of the room. Her hands go next, sliding out of Beca's hair to flop onto her abdomen.

Beca can see her now. She's flushed. Sweaty. Hair a mess. Chest heaving. Love bites dark and proud at her breast and neck.

"You're so goddamn sexy," Beca mutters before tilting her head to slide her tongue over Chloe again.

Chloe's entire body jumps and her gasp is nearly a squeal followed by a jumble of unclear syllables that makes Beca laugh and do it again, only lighter, and this time Chloe's reaction is a shiver.

She does it a third time and Chloe swears and lifts her hips to Beca's mouth and they're off again. Beca's more gentle this time, but no less thorough, as she suckles on the sensitive flesh swollen from arousal and climax and Chloe's on the brink again in a matter of a few minutes.

"Beca!" she calls right before collapsing in on herself again and hearing her name that way almost makes her come, too. Instead, she moans into Chloe and licks her down from her second high.

She's about to take her to a third when a pitiful excuse for a laugh meets her ears and her hair is getting tugged. She glances up and Chloe just beckons her with a crook of a finger and Beca's extracting herself to crawl over her and right into the kiss Chloe pulls her down into.

It's wet, all thanks to Chloe, and when Beca eases back to catch her breath, Chloe chases the kiss to lick her lips before falling back to her pillow. She watches Chloe reach up to drag a thumb across her chin, and Beca can feel it gliding across her skin, and then Chloe's sucking on her thumb and the whole thing is almost too much for Beca to handle.

She watches Chloe for a second and then drags her hand away from her mouth to drop down and kiss her again, her different tastes flooding Beca's senses - and other areas. She moans at it and without any build-up or warning, Chloe's fingers are inside her.

Her elbow gives out and the kiss breaks, her forehead landing on the pillow next to Chloe's head as she groans embarrassingly loud, right in Chloe's ear.

"Oh my God, Beca," she hears, and then there are two hands between her legs. Chloe isn't teasing either, but she's _petting_ Beca, fingers from one hand already pumping into her, the other tracing and rubbing and pulling at everything that's been drenched and on fire for so, so long, and Beca's hips just grind in an endless circle. She's immediately close but fights it; she never wants Chloe to stop worshipping her the way she is right now, but then there's a third finger and Chloe's all-out fucking her and she comes with a desperate sob.

When she opens her eyes, she's looking up at Chloe, which is the opposite of when she had closed them, and Chloe is grinning at her, still flushed, still sweaty, hair still a mess. "You alive?" her friend asks with a giggle.

She tries to respond, but all that comes out is a deep sigh and a nod.

"Me, too," Chloe replies before dipping down to peck her lips and then she disappears from Beca's line of sight.

She's not gone, though; Beca feels the bed jostle and then there's warmth all along her right side and she knows Chloe's there. A hand finds hers to hold.

"So…" Chloe starts, and Beca wants to tell her to stop, to wait for any 'talks' until she can feel her toes again, but she can't make her mouth work. "Where did all _that_ come from?"

Beca's mind stutters over the question, and her brain interprets it as a literal question referring to how wet she was - is - and she grunts in a form of embarrassment.

Chloe seems to understand and somehow has the energy to cackle with laughter, shaking the whole bed. "I didn't mean _that_ , Bec! But I suppose the answer could be the same?"

The second half of the question is quieter, a little hesitant, nervous. Chloe's nervous for Beca to tell her where the explosion of sexual...well, _everything_ had come from.

Beca's mouth is dry, and she manages to chuckle to herself at the dirty thought that there's no reason for it to be dry after everything that just happened, and she sees Chloe move back into her periphery, head propped on a fist, gazing down at her.

"You're really so surprised?" is the answer that Beca's tongue forms.

It must be acceptable because Chloe's smile breaks into a blindingly bright grin.

"How long?"

Beca just shrugs. She doesn't really know how long - how long what, how long she's had a crush on Chloe? How long she's fantasized about her? How long she's loved her?

Chloe shrugs back. "Doesn't matter I suppose." She disappears and Beca feels a tongue at her neck and then teeth at her ear as a hand covers her left breast. "But if it's been as long as me, we could have been doing this for the last two years."

Beca closes her eyes and shudders, whether from the words or the touch she can't decipher. All she knows is that she's on fire again, and really, _really_ needs to experience Chloe's tongue elsewhere.

She seems to read Beca's mind again because Beca can feel her shifting, skin brushing over skin, bed dipping and lifting.

"Hey, Bec."

Beca opens her eyes and has to search for her and Chloe's looking at her from between her legs.

Chloe grins up at her. "They say the way you spend New Year's Eve is the way you'll spend the rest of the year." A bigger smile, and Beca watches in slow motion as Chloe drifts lower and then there's warm softness gliding between her legs.

She nods down at Chloe and finds it easy to smile and respond. "Happy New Year."


End file.
